


But What Do They Do With Them?

by Welfycat



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: stargateland, Gen, Pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welfycat/pseuds/Welfycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam shrugged. "That's a lot of pants. I mean, what are they doing with them?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	But What Do They Do With Them?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Favourite Things Challenge at Stargateland.  
> Content Notes: Removal of pants with dubious consent.  
> Author Notes: Thanks so much to emeraldsnakes who helped me figure out what happens to Cam's pants and how he gets them off in the first place!

**SGC, Mess Hall - 12:18 AM**   


Cam was the last one into the mess hall, though given the fact that it was a little bit past midnight and they didn't have an official meeting time, he didn't consider himself to be late. Gate-lag - as it had been termed early during their first year of 'gate travel, Sam had explained one day - was particularly rough when they'd been off-world for five days and the planet had a 28 hour day that was on almost an exact opposite daylight cycle from Colorado. It wasn't uncommon to find members of 'gate teams wandering around the mountain at all hours of the day and night, and Cam was pretty sure his team had basically moved on base. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone back to his apartment for more than a single night a time, and Sam and Daniel's base quarters looked particularly well lived in considering they were supposed to be temporary for when they got stuck on base or 'gated back in the middle of the night.

After selecting a slice of apple pie from the refrigerated cabinet that was kept stocked during the hours the mess hall wasn't strictly open, Cam went over to the two tables that had been pushed together so that they could spread out a bit and claimed his usual seat in between Sam and Daniel.

"Hey," Cam said in greeting as he set aside his stack files and got to work unwrapping the cellophane from around the plate and the pie. It was trickier than it seemed, and Cam felt that considering all the problem solving he did off-world, unwrapping a piece of pie shouldn't be this frustrating and difficult.

"Hey," Sam replied, glancing up from her laptop as the rest of the team silently acknowledged Cam's presence.

"How's the apple?" Daniel asked absently, looking up from where he was writing with one hand and had the other holding his place in a large book. There was an empty plate near his elbow with a smear of red and a mess of crumbs.

"I'll let you know, when I get there," Cam said, giving up on the process of unwrapping and using the prongs of his fork to tear at the plastic surrounding his pie.

They lapsed into silence again, Vala with her knees propped up against the table edge as she flipped through a book that looked like it had been 'borrowed' from Daniel's collection, and Teal'c sitting in front of his own laptop with his headphones in and expression of amusement as he focused on whatever he was watching.

"Good," Cam said as he swallowed his first bite, dropping his napkin on the table and leaving for a moment to get a glass of milk. The pie was good. Nothing like pie from home, but it was still pie. Something would have to be very wrong for pie to be bad enough not to eat.

He settled back in again, flipping through the file folder he brought with him to decide what he wanted to work on first. In truth, he wasn't enthused about any of the paper work he had to do, but he'd quickly discovered that the only way to get it done was in the middle of the night when the mountain was usually quiet for the space of a few hours. Groaning around his fork, Cam came to the last sheet in the folder, the only one that he couldn't put off any longer.

Cam took another bite of the pie, from the middle where there was only a sliver of the crust and the rest was juicy filling, and reluctantly set his fork aside. Patting down his pockets, he quickly found a pen and pulled the form towards him. Do the worst first, his mother had always said, and the rest is easy from there.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, leaning over Cam's shoulder so she could peer at the paper in front of him.

Cam realized that he'd been staring at the page for at least five minutes, the tip of his pen hovering over the box where he was supposed to print his name and rank. "Requisition," he said shortly.

Daniel looked up, his full attention on Cam this time - Cam knew because Daniel's fingers had slipped away from where he'd been keeping his place - and pushed up his glasses to focus better. "It's only been four months."

"I know," Cam said tersely. He set the nub of his pen down in the first box and scrawled his name.

"That is a full fifteen days sooner than the last time you were required to requisition more pants to be worn off-world," Teal'c observed, his headphones now resting on the table.

"General Landry keeps threatening that I'm going to have to start buying my own if I keep going over my uniform allotment. Frankly, they don't pay me enough for that," Cam said, almost growling as he finished filling out all of his personal details at the top of the form. He skipped down to the third section, ignoring the jacket's and shirts columns. For some reason the aliens never seem to want his jacket or his shirt. Just the pants.

"Hmm," Daniel said, having not yet gone back to his reading.

Cam looked up, having already filled in the lines for his waist and inseam. "What?" he snapped, a little more aggressively than he might have under other circumstances.

Daniel picked up the coffee pot and refilled his mug. "I was just thinking that Jack never had this problem. I mean, we all have had a fair number of uniforms lost or destroyed off-world, but I've never seen anyone go through pants like you have."

"He's already at most pairs of pants lost, and he's only been on a 'gate team for a little over two years," Sam said cheerfully.

"You can't possibly know that," Cam said, glaring at both Sam and Daniel, who looked stunningly innocent in return. Cam shook his head and returned to deciding if he wanted three pairs of blue pants and four pairs of green, or four pairs of blue and three of green. He'd lost track of which pairs he'd lost recently, but the black ones he was currently wearing where his last pair of uniform pants that didn't belong to a dress uniform.

"It's on the spreadsheet," Sam remarked, just when Cam thought the subject had been dropped.

"There's a spreadsheet for clothes lost off-world?" Cam asked incredulously.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "The Stargate program is populated by scientists who are either in the military or are closely involved with the military. We have a spreadsheet for everything."

It was a sign that Cam had been around Cheyenne Mountain long enough - too long, maybe - that Sam's explanation made perfect sense to him. Cam shook his head and marked down four pairs of blue and four pairs of green.

"Though, that does raise an interesting question," Sam said, pausing.

Cam waited for her to go on, not really sure he wanted her to, but finally turned to her. "What?"

"Well, given that the total numbers of pairs of pants that you've lost, not including ones that have been destroyed that we know of, there are at least 40 of your pairs of pants on various planets throughout our galaxy," Sam said thoughtfully.

"At least," Daniel added, falling quiet when Cam shot him another glare.

"And?" Cam asked impatiently.

Sam shrugged. "That's a lot of pants. I mean, what are they doing with them?"

"Shouldn't the question be why they wish to have Cameron Mitchell's pants to begin with?" Teal'c asked.

"That's easy," Vala said, dropping her book onto the table. When they all stared at her, she continued. "They want to see him without his pants. Simple as that."

Cam shifted to discover that the rest of the team was staring at him in consideration. "No. They don't."

But Vala was on a roll. "Well, there was that one mission where they took your-"

"We don't talk about that mission," Cam interrupted, feeling himself flush ever so slightly. "Are we done talking about my pants now?"

Vala just grinned. "No."

"No, she's at least partially right. The inhabitants of P3X-723 did want to see Cam without his pants," Sam agreed. "But it doesn't explain why they want to keep them."

Cam thought about adding that it didn't make sense that they only wanted his pants and no one else's, but he wasn't about to open up that line of questioning. He knew his team too well.

"So, what do they do with them? It's not like we can go back to each planet and conduct a survey as to what happened to the pants after we left," Sam pointed out.

"Not if we don't want Cam to lose another pair in the process," Daniel said with a smirk.

Cam plunged back into his paper work, but the thought was now deeply entrenched in his mind. After deciding that five pairs of black pants was a reasonable request, Cam signed the bottom of the form, but found himself staring at it instead of tucking it back into the folder. Just what did they want with his pants anyway…

*****

 **What Cam imagines happens on P2X-153 after they leave town:**

The Touniti council stood as a group as they watched the visitors who claimed to have come through the Great Circle retreat back into the forest that surrounded their lands. They had been a peculiar group of people, concerned about a group they called 'Ori' who apparently wished to convert them for power. All in all, the speech had been a little bit dull, but they had listened, and had agreed when they talked about the prospect of trade. Some of the items they carried with them had been fascinating, but one thing in particular had caught Marku's eye.

After discussing it with the council leader, it was decided that Marku could make the traditional demand of tribute, to prove the sincerity and good will of the people who had traveled to met with them and to assure that they would be good trading partners in the future. Marku had approached the leader, a man with a wary and watchful expression, who directed those who were more skilled and under his command.

Their leader, the name 'Mitchell' awkward on Marku's tongue, had been reluctant to part with the article of clothing at first, but when the council leader had insistent that the tribute be made or the group would be forcefully removed from the lands, the man had agreed.

Marku walked back into the council building, his fingers working the soft and well woven fabric. 'BDUpants' Mitchell had called them when he handed them over, his legs long and pale. There seemed to be another pair of the 'pants', much shorter and tighter than the ones that had been relinquished, that Mitchell was wearing, but only one tribute could be demanded. Sitting back down in the circle, Marku held the pants in his lap, the flaps of his own robe a newfound fascination. He'd never seen anyone in the pants before, and now, he couldn't push the idea away.

Once the council had decided on what they could possibly offer for trade upon the next visiting of the travelers, they dispersed for the evening. Marku gave casual greetings to the people he saw as he walked through the lands to the rooms he called his own. It was late enough that he could avoid going out into the fields to help with the planting, but early enough that the evening meal would not be served for some period of time.

Stepping inside his abode, Marku checked to make sure that he was alone before shedding his robe onto his blankets. The pants were more difficult to get into than Marku had anticipated and eventually he wound up sitting down and inserting his feet and legs before he stood up again. He examined the clasps that held the pants closed at the top for a moment before doing up as many of them as he could. It was a strange feeling, and his first few steps were as awkward as a newborn's stumbling. After a short amount of time, he removed the pants and stepped back into his robe. He couldn't see wearing them everyday, but it would be an amusement to try them on from time to time.

*****

 **How Vala imagines it goes down on P4B-792:**

Tupa raced down through the congested streets of Lutrana, a city and planet known everywhere in the local system for being the best place to get anything you wanted, by trade or otherwise; the blue pair of pants she held tightly in her hand flowed out behind her like a streamer.

It was a dangerous city, if you didn't know your way around, and Tupa had grown up there and could spot traders who didn't know what they were doing from across a crowded bar room. The group, all in matching outfits which meant that they were either subservient in some planet's military or belonged to one of the many cults that traveled from world to world hoping to attract followers. Since they were occupied with one of the street hawkers, someone of no real importance but Tupa had watched them hustle countless wide-eyed visitors, she knew they weren't out to convert and were probably relaxing while they away from their commanders.

Iyunu had bet her thirty denarii that she couldn't get the handsome one's pants off of him, and Tupa had considered him for a moment before declaring it a deal. Setting to work enticing the man, to the smirks and cheers of his group, Tupa dragged the man by his jacket into one of the rooms that was down the street from the bar for this very purpose. Five denarii wasn't much of a price, and she had loosened her jacket before they were even inside. It had taken more work that she'd expected to get him to remove his pants, and he actually seemed a little bit shy. She had a moment of uncertainty, but his pants were off and she kissed him on the cheek and grabbed them before darting out into the darkening street.

She met Iyunu in another bar; filled with near darkness, sweaty and heated bodies, and loud drums from the front stage. Tupa shouted to demand her payment, not bothering to ask for recompense for the room she'd used for the ruse, and they both got ale from the barkeeper before tumbling out into the mass of moving bodies. She raised the pants over her head, using the waistband to keep hold of them and swung them in time with the beat of the drums.

Iyunu grabbed them from her after a while, and the pair of pants made its way around the bar over the course of the night. Seated on the side of the bar, she could see a couple using the pants in a complicated and rather lewd dance, before they were passed to a man who flung them up into the rafters in time with the music.

It was early in the morning, first light just starting to filter through the buildings of the city, when the music stopped and Tupa retrieved her prize from where they'd wound up behind the counter. They were a little worse for wear, stained and a small rip along one of the leg seams, but they were hers now and she could see this becoming a regular sport for her and Iyunu. She slipped through the back alleys where she was unlikely to encounter the man she'd taken the pants from, or the group he'd been traveling with. 'Cam', he'd whispered with his mouth near her ear - she'd never heard a name like that, and she'd heard plenty. Cam's pants, Tupa decided, would be the first in her collection.

*****

 **What Sam suspects they Hyluians do with Cam's pants:**

On the last night the distant star travelers were staying in Hylui, Torman did the unthinkable and snuck into the guest rooms that were housed in the central hall. It was against every good faith code they had in their legal system, but Torman couldn't help himself. He had to know; that was what defined his life. He had to test everything, learn everything, discover everything that was in the whole universe, even if he'd never yet left his planet. Some day, he vowed that he would travel through the circle, just like the travelers who were staying with them now. But for the time being, he had to be satisfied with hearing their stories and learning about the distant civilizations from the travelers themselves.

These travelers though were special. They had technology like he'd never even heard of except for those who spoke in whispers of what the gods from other worlds could do. Some of it was things they could do on Hylui, but much better and far more compact. The woman with light hair had showed him what she called a 'computer' with wonderful images and buttons and words. Torman had never in his wildest imaginings thought such a thing was possible.

It was dark in the guest rooms, the moons both hidden away behind the clouds - something Torman had spent much time observing along with the celestial movements. The travelers had spoke of their planet, so far away that it was described in a distance that seemed impossible to fathom. In the darkness, Torman bumped into one of the side tables, experiencing sharp pain in his shin as he clutched it and sunk down to the floor. He wasn't sure which of the traveler's rooms he was in, but the traveler stirred in his bed.

Not daring to stay any longer, but not wanting to leave empty handed, Torman grabbed the first thing his hands found and carefully crawled back out of the room and into the hallway. He slumped down against the wall for a brief moment, closing his eyes before he regained his feet and took off running through the central buildings and out into the village. It wasn't an unusual sight, Torman running in one direction or another as he bounded from one experiment and idea to the next.

He didn't look at the item he'd retrieved until he was safe inside his laboratory, his bed and cooking area pushed to the side of his room. It was a pair of pants, a deep blue which Torman had never seen in cloth before now, but he was not dissuaded. The fabric was nothing like the woven cloth that all of the clothes in the village were made of, and Torman was determined to make the most of his discovery. There was something to be learned from everything after all.

Placing the pants on his work table, Torman assembled his instruments - workers used tools, scientists used instruments - and turned on the lights that he'd rigged to surround the table. Carefully he set to first visually examining each element of the pants, and then collecting samples of some of the dirt that was on the heels of the pants legs in case it came from a distant planet. He could examine the composition later. Using his sharpest and most delicate cutting instrument, Torman started pulling apart the seams of the pants and examining the construction. Most interesting.

*****

 **Daniel is pretty sure this is what becomes of Cam's pants at the Yurkian Temple:**

The evening before had been a wondrous and delightful celebration and Myna couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome. After all, it wasn't often they had visitors come to the Great Yurkian Temple of the Setting Sun to worship and commune with her and the rest of her people. Traditionally, many of the Yurkian people made their way to the Great Temple (the grandest temple in all the lands of Yurkia, if Myna was to be asked) only when the sun once again began its yearly plunge into the darkness that would haunt their lands for a long and stark quarter. They darkness had only passed a short time ago, and far fewer people were able to make the return trip to give thanks for the return of the light and heat to their lands.

The visitors, three men and three women, all carrying weapons but all peaceful and willing to engage in discourse with her about the worlds surrounding them and the others that also travelled among the stars. They gave dire warning of a coming threat, but Myna reassured them that her people were eternally faithful and that they would gain no followers from her lands regardless of the threats that were made.

When evening had arrived, Myna had invited them deep into the Great Temple for the evening worship, and had explained the history of their people and all of the images inside the temple to one of the men who'd been keenly interested. Music, food, and drink had been the order for the evening; the continued celebration of the return of the light was intended to take place each evening into the early morning for the full season of the time of new light. They rarely stuck strictly to the tradition, celebrating the lights return for as long as they had the resources until they were forced to begin rising early once again to take care of the temple and the surrounding lands. But with visitors, Myna held the full ceremony as it was originally pictured on the temple walls.

When she explained, at the end of the ceremony and well into the morning, that it was customary for those who engaged in the celebration of the light to offer something of themselves - something they considered necessary, as was the light necessary to the lands - one of the men had stumbled to his feet and removed the lower part of his outfit and pressed it into her hands with a mumble she couldn't understand. Before she could clarify his offering, the man fell asleep on the floor, fortunately surrounded by pillows so that he would be comfortable, and the rest of the visitors quickly fell into slumber as well.

The priestess before Myna had warned her that some visitors were overwhelmed by the ceremonial drinks, and Myna secured the room before retreating to her own chambers within the temple. The following evening, long after the visitors had gone - the man would had offered his clothing had walked away with his longer shirt wrapped around his waist - Myna engaged all the priests and priestesses in her temple to gather as she set the garment into the great fire bowl that sat lit in the temple and watched as the offering returned to the light.

*****

 **When Cam's pants go missing, Teal'c is certain the following ensues on P7C-710:**

Trina was fully occupied with taking the daily washing of the household out into the lines hanging between the many sheds that occupied their land, half dragging one of the heaviest baskets behind her while she balanced the other basket against one of her hips. She wasn't fully paying attention, her mother always told her that she didn't pay enough attention, and when she'd finally finished putting everything hanging up so that it would dry in the summer wind, she realized that she was short several things that should have been in places along the line.

Spotting a small blanket fluttering against one of the sheds, Trina raced after it. Some things must have fell from the basket she'd been dragging, she realized as she spotted her sister's skirt at the edge of the field. Trina bounded out to the field, hoping that nothing she'd dropped had gotten dirty enough that she'd have to help wash it again. More work meant less time to be out with in the village square and watching and listening to everything that happened. She picked up two other items, but moaned and said words that would have her mother furious if she'd heard them when she saw one of the goats outside of the pen, part of a piece of cloth dangling from its mouth.

She set the linen she'd gathered over one of the fences and carefully approached the goat. After a few times, she managed to nab the piece of fabric and drag what was left of it away from the animal without getting bitten. She stared at it for a few moments in confusion, because it wasn't something from the household washing, but after thinking about it she realized where she recognized the fabric from.

Two days ago, some travelers from far away had dined with them, and mother had insisted that they washed before they joined the family at the table. Father had been concerned about the uniforms they'd worn and the weapons they'd carried, word had been coming for months about wars and armies approaching, but the visitors had all been very nice. Of course, the man had shouted rather loudly when he couldn't find his pants after washing in one of the outbuildings. Mother had hurried Trina and the rest of the children away - they'd all been drawn out of the house by the shouting - and when the visitors had joined them at the table the man had been wrapped in one of the clean blankets from the horse barn.

Trina shrugged and tucked the piece of fabric into one of the deep pockets of her skirt and scolded the goat before gathering the rest of the washing to hang up. At least now mother couldn't say that Beka or Hopay, Trina's oldest sisters, had taken the poor man's pants.

*****

 **SGC, Mess Hall - 01:14 AM**

Cam blinked, his requisition form swimming in front of his eyes as he shook his head firmly to clear it of whatever convoluted day dream he'd been experiencing. Surely that wasn't what happened to _his_ pants when the aliens took them?

He looked around the table, finding everyone staring off into the distance. The screen of Sam's laptop had gone to its screensaver, Daniel and Vala's books were laying open without any pages being turned, and Teal'c was still holding his headphones with a particularly thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey, guys," Cam said, deciding that he wasn't going to ask if they were still all thinking about his pants.

The rest of the team looked up, all seeming a tiny bit dazed.

"Let's go play basketball or something," Cam offered, a little uneasy in the way they all looked at him with expressions varying from concern to curiosity.

Sam shut her laptop. "Yeah, I think I need do something else for a little while."

"Anything else," Vala proclaimed, shutting her book without bothering to mark her place.

"Indeed." Teal'c got to his feet, tucking his laptop under his arm.

Daniel shrugged. "Yeah, I think I need to stretch my legs. Stop thinking of rituals and pilgrimages and temples…"

Cam picked up his dishes to bring over to the washing area, having long ago learned not to ask when Daniel trailed off into thought. He grabbed his file folder from the table, tucking the requisition form back inside so that he could turn it in later in the day, hopefully after he got some sleep. "First to ten is the winner," he challenged, leading the way out of the mess hall with his team at his heels.


End file.
